Larkin: Business People
Warning: graphic violence “Get it back, he says, get it back,” Sabac grumbled and kicked the dirt. “Like it’s my damn fault he’s employed a ratter. I just stole the thing for him and gave it to who he told me to give it to. What kinda name is 'The Tailor' anyway?” He wagged two fingers in the air. Larkin gave him a quizzical look, then shrugged. “It’s not a punishment you know.” “You sure?” “Yeah. If he were actually mad at you, you’d know. He just wants it dealt with and you were the first one there to get the job. Maybe he also thought you’d be motivated to get your price back.” The thief grumbled again but this time it sounded more thoughtful than irritated. “You gotta look at the positive side of things.” “Which would be?“ “You’re not the one getting dragged out of bed by a bunch of gangsters tonight.” That actually brought a smile to his face. Behind them, Neega, a half-orc and their muscle on this job, chuckled. “It's not you two who do the draggin', though” Larkin turned to her and grinned. “Why are you so hyped anyway?” Sabac asked. Larkin huffed. “Finch is still recovering and I haven’t been out on a team job in weeks. Not on any actual job, really. Drives me nuts. I practically had to beg Renar to give me something to do.” Sabac nodded. He understood people like them weren’t made for sitting idle. “Nasty business,” was all he said. “Yeah.” “Looks like we’re good to go soon,” Neega interjected, pointing out the window of the warehouse they were hiding in and to a building across the street. In the upper story, the last window had gone dark. “Thank god,” Sabac said, “I thought he’d be up all night.” *** For such a big woman, the half-orc was surprisingly silent as they moved through the house. The Tailor’s head, when she dragged him out of his bed and it bumped on the floor, wasn’t. Neither was the Tailor himself, when he started shouting and cursing at them. He kicked and flailed his arms in an effort to get free but was no match for Neega. She forced his arms behind his back and hauled him upright. Sabac hung a blanket in front of the window while Larkin lit a lamp. “Who the fuck are you?” the Tailor snapped. “You got any idea who you’re fucking with?” “Nah, but we’re about to find out.” Larkin looked to Sabac. “Is it him?” “Yep. Definitely the same mug.” The Tailor jerked in Neega’s grip again. “You guys are in serious trouble if you hurt me. I got powerful friends. I work for the Basha” “Funny. So do we,” Sabac said. The Tailor stared at him for a moment, then he seemed to recognize him. “Oh.” “Yeah, oh.” Sabac began clearing the one table in the room of its clutter. They had gone over this beforehand and decided, Larkin would ask the questions. Out of the three, she had the most experience. Also, she'd watched her uncle do it more often than she would've liked. Standing in front their captive, she looked him over and tried to decide how to best make him talk. The Tailor was a good foot taller, looking down on her with a scowl as he hung in Neega's grip. He didn't seem much impressed yet but hat would change soon. She drew a knife. “So, usually what we do at this point is have a monologue about playing games and following rules. Lots of fancy talk.” She nodded to Neega then pointed at the table. “It’s supposed to intimidate you. But we don't really have the time. You probably know the drill already and if not, you’re going to catch on soon enough.” She smirked. The half-orc hauled their captive over and pressed him down on the table, face first. Sabac grabbed the Tailor’s hand and stretched out his arm, pressing it palm down on the tabletop. Larkin sat down in the chair so she could see the Tailor’s face. She reached over and splayed the fingers of his pinned hand while the thief held on to the wrist. She set the tip of the knife down on the last joint of the man’s pinky. “What’s your name?” she asked. The Tailor glared at her and hissed. “Fuck y-” She pushed the knife down and sliced. The man screamed and bucked but Neega and Sabac held him tight. The thief pressed down on the Tailor’s hand until he held it still again. Larkin moved the tip of her knife a joint farther down. “Try again. What’s your name?” He grunted and hissed through clenched teeth but eventually, answered. “Balon Matthew” Larkin smiled at him. “Good. Wasn’t too hard, was it?” The knife moved to the tip of his ringfinger. “Next one. Why steal from Renar Basha?” This time the Tailor answered right away, voice shaky. "It was easy. Thought he wouldn't notice if something went missing. With all the fences he has." Sabac scroffed at that. Larkin set the knife to the next joint. “Who are you working for?” “No one.” She cut off the finger. “Ah! Oh god-” the Tailor cried out and squirmed in his captor’s grip again, to no avail. Tears ran down his cheeks and nose. “You’re not very good at this,” Larkin said, moving the knife to the middle finger. “Maybe we should cut off something bigger?” “Please, no, I-” “Who pays you?” “It’s the truth, please. I’m self-employed. I thought I could - you know – sell the stuff and keep the profit myself.” With a doubtful frown, Larkin looked to Sabac who shrugged. “Okay, let’s assume we believe you, dumb as it sounds.” The Tailor cringed. “What else did you steal from the Basha’s people?” He didn’t answer right away and Larkin begann pressing down the knife again. “Lots!” the Tailor said, the panic plain in his voice. “Lots of it. It’s a long list. I’m thinking.” “Think faster.” “It’s all still there. I have it. I can show you. If you let me go.” Larkin said nothing but looked to Sabac again. He rolled his eyes. “We’ll see. Where is the stuff?” “I got a place. A secret warehouse.” “Here in town?” “Yes.” *** The secret warehouse wasn’t so much a house but a boat. It bobbed in a narrow canal between a row of tear-down buildings and looked like it hadn’t seen a passenger in years. Sabac took out the key he’d taken from the Tailor and climbed in. “I swear, if this thing sinks under me you’re dead,” he muttered. “Where's the stuff?” Larkin removed the gag they had stuffed into their captive's mouth. He coughed. “In the rear, under the seating. There’s a lose plank on the side.” Sabac moved around the boat as if standing on a high wire, arms up for balancing as the flimsy thing rocked under him. Larkin could understand him. The canal smelled like it collected the combined sewage of all of Skyport. Him falling in would ruin everyone's day. “Bugger me, he’s told the truth,” the thief said when he found the hidden latch and popped the plank open. He peered in, then used the key to unlock something. He turned around to Larkin and Neega. “There’s a ton of stuff in here. Like, so much I can’t believe this thing is still floating." Larkin walked over to the boat, curious to take a closer look. From where she stood, she could make out an assortment of sacks, paper rolls that might be paintings, small boxes and even something that looked like a carpet. "We’ll have to make two trips.” “Okay," the Tailor spoke up, "So you got your stuff back.” He jerked at his uninjured arm that was still held tightly by the half-orc. “Let me go now.” They were silent for a moment. Larkin glanced at Sabac who in turn made a gesture at Neega. “Sorry,” she said, “can’t do that.” Category:Vignettes